Lost butterfly flutters its wings against the wind;
thoughts scatter in directions--south, east, north and west.
Sail through the lone blue skies – the yearn driven chagrin;
lazily, decisions are made in haste. Surely it’s best
yonder across the land she’s needing more –crosswind.
Regions mark her path pushing her far Midwest.
In glittering rays of the sun
nothing in her can be dismayed.
Greater to live free—life’s begun,
required the outlook she'd displayed.
Does she seek sorrow from this run?
Self preservation calls – “crusade!”
Worth--endless sunbeams
hold in all my dreams.





9 old applause
